John's Adventures in a Sherlock Romance
by LadyKailitha
Summary: Sherlock doesn't drink often lowers his brain function too much but when he does he gets drunk. John was hoping to spend a quiet evening with his mystery book. And now he has a drunk flatmate on his lap who won't budge. What happens when they realize their feelings for each other. Johnlock. Only four chapters so far. I may write more in this story but not sure.
1. The Temptation of Watson

I sighed contently, having settled in for a quiet night with a book. Mrs. Hudson was out visiting relatives and Sherlock was out on what he called "a minor matter, nothing of consequence," and didn't require my assistance. If I had to admit it even to myself, I didn't like the idea of him out there on his own; he was liable to do something stupid like nearly taking a bottle of pills that could kill him. But what I did like, however, was a chance at solitude.

It was shortly after ten when Mrs. Hudson came home and I considering turning in for the night, but looking down at my book I decided that I wanted to at least finish the chapter. It was a crime novel, and my time with Sherlock had sharpened my senses a bit – and I found the book enthralling. So it came as no surprise that I had continued to the chapter after this one and soon the night slipped into the early morning.

I was getting to the big reveal when I heard the front door slam. It was Sherlock coming home, and from the sound of it he was drunk. I assumed that he liked the buzzed feeling he got, considering he couldn't get his fix elsewhere. I found it hard to believe that someone as brilliant as Holmes would want to take that kind of stuff into his body but then Sherlock wasn't anything short of normal. I rolled my eyes, though no one was around to see.

When Sherlock came bumbling in to their apartment, even I raised an eyebrow. Sherlock had done quite a few wild things since I moved in but this? This took the cake. He had managed to divest himself of coat, shirt, shoes, and apparently half a sock.

"Eh, Sherlock?" I inquired as I watched him try to remove his pants as well. Thankfully all he managed to do was unzip his pants and undo the button before he fell passed out on the couch. Regrettably, however, this was also the couch in which I had chosen for my reading.

I snorted rudely and tried to push the drunken idiot off him. "Sherlock!" I yelled, but all I managed to do was get him turned around on his back, instead of the face plant. I gave up. There was just no dealing with him right now. I lifted my book to let Sherlock's head to slide down on to my lap. If I was going to be a bloody pillow I might as well be comfortable too.

I looked down and suddenly was too aware of his state of undress. My breath became shallow and I looked around for something, anything to cover him up. But no luck, sighing I chose to focus on his book.

I lowered the book, finally finished, and determined that the author was an idiot. But then, compared to Sherlock nearly everyone was. It was then I realized that while I was absorbed in the book I had been tracing patterns with my finger over Sherlock's chest.

I slammed the book down in frustration and almost stood up to dump the subject of my frustration on the floor. But out of the corner of I eye he caught sight of Sherlock's face and my heart stopped. I had never seen him look so peaceful.

I shook his shoulder in an effort to wake him. I hollered, "Wake up!" but still the idiot refused to, instead rolled over on his side, a lock of hair falling between his eyes. This time my chest refused to intake air, my breath caught. I forced the air out, sighing. I slowly stood and let Sherlock's head gently hit the couch.

Again I looked for something to cover him and figured that I would either have to go into Sherlock's room or my own to get a blanket. A thought dawned on me then as I glanced down the stairwell, seeing the divested clothes lying forgotten. Sherlock's coat was long enough and, provided it wasn't at the bottom of the stairs, would work. So I went to go get it. My luck really wasn't improving as the coat was at the bottom, but I picked up the other things anyway and grabbed the coat. I made his way back up and put the things away, completely forgetting why I'd gotten them in the first place.

I saw the way the rising sun hit Sherlock's features and got the insane notion to move him to the bedroom. I stood over him, blocking the light, trying to decide the best way to move him. The crux of the issue was that Sherlock was good six inches taller than I was. I chose the best one and leaned forward, grabbing his arm and slinging him over my shoulder.

Luck was finally with me as the door to Sherlock's room swung open with the touch of my foot. There were no experiments cluttering the path to the bed, either. I swung him down onto it, and the force of the drop didn't even cause him to stir.

Without even looking at my friend, I moved to close the drapes to keep the harsh sunlight from piercing his hangover when he woke. But when I turned around I saw that the wayward hair had made its way back in front of Sherlock's eyes. Fetching the blanket off the chair, I chewed my lip nervously. I tucked the blanket around him and made the decision.

I reached out my hand to brush away the hair when Sherlock stirred. My breath caught and drew my hand back with the lightning of a snake recoiling but he remained asleep. Slower this time, I reached out my hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes. But I was too close now and Sherlock's lips moved, mouthing something in his sleep. I wanted to so bad, but what if Sherlock woke? There would be no explaining that one.

No – I couldn't risk it, I wouldn't. I straightened up and moved around the bed to the door. My hand touched the door knob when I heard what Sherlock had been mouthing in his sleep.

"John," and again, "John. I believe in you John." At first I thought that Sherlock was awake, but when I turned, I saw that he was soundly asleep. I shook my head, and smiled and left him to sleep off the alcohol that was buzzing in his brain. I closed the door and the smile ran away from my face as a wave of guilt hit me. I slumped against the door and slid down it as I buried my face in my hands.

"Oh god," I breathed outloud as tears choked my throat. I looked up and gently banged my head on the door. I struggled to get to my feet but the sobs wracked my whole body. The guilt I felt continued to well up inside me. I felt like I had taken advantage of my friend while he was passed out. I wouldn't do that to a girl but I done it to Sherlock.

How I managed to make it up the stairs to my room I'll never know but I did. Without bothering to undress myself I crawled into bed and curled up on my side as I cried myself to sleep.

Somehow I'd managed to get a shower and dressed before Sherlock stumbled out of his room moaning, his hand pressed against his head, clearly in pain. I handed him a cup and some aspirin without saying a word, trying to notice that he was in the same state of undress as the night before. Sherlock merely nodded his thanks and stumbled back into his room.

I had dodged a bullet one that one. I decided to tidying the apartment and when I was do I went to get the mail. I saw several bills, mostly addressed to my, and was shuffling through them when Sherlock exited his room, this time far better dressed then the night before.

"Ah, John. Just whom I wanted to see."

I could barely squeak out an "Oh?" My mind raced through all the possibilities and hoped to god it was case related.

"Yes," Sherlock looked him square in the eye and I couldn't look away; it was like a bird being caught in a snake's gaze. "What the _hell_ happened last night?" I completely missed the hanger, trying to hang my coat back up. I bent to pick it up so Sherlock wouldn't see the blush that colored my cheeks.

"I-I'm not sure what you mean. You came in drunk last night, if that's what you're referring to..." I stood up and managed to put my coat on the coatrack this time.

He rolled his eyes. "Well that much was obvious, thank you. I meant afterwards."

"Like?" I could barely speak.

Sherlock, realizing that he would have to draw it out of me, said, "Fine. Like how did I make it from the couch, which I recall falling on, to my bed?"

"And do you recall falling on me? Because you did." I was getting defensive, trying to keep the blush from my cheeks.

"Did I? Well you still haven't answered my question."

"Really, Sherlock, how else? I carried you." I walked to the table; I could feel his eyes on me watching him like a hawk. I put the bills down.

"Fine. Then I'm guessing you closed the drapes and put the blanket over me." I merely nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment.

And the hammer fell. "You undressed me then as well." It was a statement and not a question. I whirled around.

"Of course not! You did that yourself, you big ninny." This time hot anger flushed my cheeks. I looked up to see Sherlock smiling mischievously at me. And all anger drained away and it took all I had to speak calmly.

"Right. You knew that." And that insufferable grin got bigger. "You left a mess all down the stairs too. Which _I_ cleaned up, by the way."

The piercing look was back and his friend replied, "Anything else I should know about?"

I wondered how much he knew or guessed, and just shook my head.

"Nothing?"

"Nope." I cleared my throat again. "I think I must be coming down with a cold. I'll get it looked at when I go in tomorrow."

"And you're sure nothing else happened?" Sherlock clearly wasn't going to let this drop.

"Not that I recall, unless you can think of something I can't." I rocked back and forth on my feet, waiting.

Sherlock pursed his lips and then he went to the coatrack and got his coat.

"Going out?" but Sherlock just ignored him and headed for the door. He stopped and turned to me.

"Next time you're _in the mood_, it's more fun when I'm awake." He tossed his hair and ran a hand across his chest to emphasize his point. And then, with a wink, he was gone.

I twisted, crouching on the floor, my face in my hand. But before I could breathe or even think Sherlock was back.

"I woke up briefly while you were reading."

"Oh god," I fell to the floor, in surprise and humiliation, my shame nearly complete. "And the other?"

He walked over and stood over me. "You talk to yourself out loud. While you were making coffee, I would have come out sooner but I stopped to listen." Sherlock smiled down at his friend impishly. He held out his hand.

My shame was accute as it was complete. But I sighed and took the offered hand anyway and allowed Sherlock to pull me up.

"It was good of you to come back and explain." I looked down at our still connected hands and blushed. I allowed my hand to drop the same time as Sherlock's, making it natural instead of dropping it like a hot rock like my brain told me too.

"Well since you know my little secret," I tucked my hands behind his back rocked back on his heels, "I should probably mention that I heard you talk in your sleep." Sherlock handed me my coat and we walked out into the cold, afternoon air.

"You should have mentioned it before," he admonished as we walked along.

I blushed, "I didn't want to embarrass you." Sherlock's laughter filled the streets.

"Like _I_ can be embarrassed."

"True, true…." I walked along, my hands tucked firmly behind my back.

"So are you going to tell me what I said? Or do we have to play twenty questions again?" This time John laughed.

"I warn you, even I thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh get on with it, John."

"You said 'I believe in you, John'," I told him and watched carefully for his reaction. Oddly, it wasn't embarrassment but deep fear. Like his darkest secret had gotten out.

"Looks as though we're even then." his voice had gone cold, devoid of human emotion. We walked along, in silence awhile before I got up the courage to ask.

"Um... well then... so..." Sherlock glared at him sidelong. "Where _are _we going?" The smile came back.

"Where else?"

"Some place dangerous, then?" I smiled in return.

"Did you remember your pistol?" My smile got bigger.

"Yes, and your revolver, too." I pulled it out of my coat pocket and handed it to him.

"The game is on!" we said at the same time and dashed off through the battlefield of the streets of London.

We both knew that today they had moved past the childishness of their relationship. We knew that the other was our weaknesses.

Sherlock, he knew, reveled in the knowledge that he had been right all those months ago in the cafe that I had feelings for him. Even if it took him coming home drunk for me to realize it.

And I basked in the glow of the knowledge that despite all the comments and snide remarks, Sherlock valued me.

That knowledge fled to more pressing things but it would always be the day we took our first steps into something greater than ourselves. The team that would be forever known as Holmes and Watson, consulting detectives.


	2. Memories

When I woke up that morning, it dawned clear and bright and I felt happy for the first time in a really long time. Sherlock knew how I felt about him and I knew he cared about me. Or at least as much as someone like him could. I looked up and started. I scrambled for the sheets and sat up trying to cover myself.

For standing above me fully dressed and ready to go out was Sherlock Holmes. "Sherlock!" I nearly screamed. He smiled down at me and I got the impression he often watched me sleep.

"We have a case!" I looked over at the clock and it was barely even eight. I sighed and scrambled out of bed.

He watched me as I gathered up my things for a shower. His eyes stayed on the scar in my shoulder. Even when I turned around I could feel his gaze on the exit wound. I sighed again and went into the bathroom and closed the door. Once on the other side I let my emotions show. I didn't like _anyone_ looking at my scar. It brought back too many painful memories and here was Sherlock looking at it unabashedly. I leaned against the door and slid down it as the memories flashed across my mind. I closed my eyes but it only threw them into sharper relief.

The memories flood my mind's eye, the sounds of helicopters flying overhead not quite drowning out the sounds of battle. I could smell smoke and blood mingling with the stench of burning. We were being fired upon, the sound of gunfire piercing the noise filled air. I could see my unit return fire. The flashing of the muzzles burned into my irises.

A new sound filled my ears. I could hear someone calling my name. I concentrated on the sound and it was a voice I recognized as well as my own. My good friend, Sgt. Bennet. I searched frantically through the smoke and debris until I found him. I spot him in enemy territory. I look around but no one in my unit has seen him. I grab the gun of a fallen comrade and spray fire at the buildings the enemy fire seems to be coming from. I leap over a small wall and spray more fire as I slid to his side.

"Shit!" The word is out of my mouth before I could stop it. The wound in his side is massive. I put pressure on it, holding down firmly as he looked into my eyes. "Oh, shit." I repeat. "Hold on, you'll be alright." I tell him.

But in my eyes he sees the truth. He knows he isn't going to make it. "Tell Abigail that I love her." He's starting to cough up blood. I can feel his life leave him, I can see his eyes turn glassy. And like that he's gone. I grab his arm to drag his body away from enemy lines and back to the safety of our men. So he can be given a proper burial. In my haste to get his body away from the fire fight, I forgot to return fire.

I'm running backwards. I'm at least smart enough to keep an eye on the enemy positions. I turn back briefly. I'm so close I can see the whites of my men's eyes. I turn back and that's when I feel a sharp pain rip through my shoulder. I drop my friend and I stagger backwards falling and hitting my head.

Up above me I can see my unit surge forward to get us and the last thing I heard before the world goes black is, "Capt. Watson!"

Tears slipped down my cheeks and I whimpered. I curled up on the floor and cried. It hadn't been too long however when there came a knock on the door.

"John?" The voice wasn't irritated like I thought it would be. It sounded more concerned.

"I'll be a minute." My voice was cracked from the crying but I didn't care just then. I sat up and wiped away my tears. I got changed and opened the door. My flatmate looked down at me, concern etched into his face like marble.

"Not getting a shower this morning?" He asked the least sensitive question.

"Not feeling up to it this morning. I'll get one when we get back." Sherlock merely nodded and led the way to Baker St. I glanced up at the sky and I could see despite it being sunny when I woke a storm was working it's way toward us and I shook my head. It was like the weather was attuned to my mood.

We sat in silence as we made our way to the crime scene. I rubbed my hands together fitfully and stared out the window. In the mirror like image of the glass I could see him watching me, the concern never leaving those eyes. But I sat stubbornly in silence not wanting to talk about what happened this morning.

We got to the crime scene and Lestrade explained to us the details. I looked down at my left hand in worry. It was shaking again. I frowned at it as Lestrade and Sherlock talked about the scene. I knew I should be listening but I couldn't concentrate.

"John?" Lestrade looked at me worriedly. Even Sherlock did his "what?" expression.

I just shook my head and walked away. After a minute or two I could hear the sound of hurried footsteps coming to get me. I reached up to grab the wrist of the man that was attacking me when I heard a surprised gasp.

"John?" I let go like I had grasped something burning hot. It was Sherlock. And I almost flipped him over on his back. Well… maybe not. This was Sherlock, after all.

I turned away to hide the embarrassment that now colored my cheeks. My hands went up to my face and my shoulders hunched. I was shaking so bad. Suddenly I felt warm arms wrap around me and slowly my shuddering stopped.

"John?" He asked again. I leaned my head against his chest and just breathed in his scent.

"Bad memories." I told him. He turned me around in his arms.

"Is this about me looking at your scar this morning?" Brilliant, brilliant Sherlock. He got it right in one. I nodded into his coat. He cupped my face in his gloved hands and lifted my face up to his.

What happened next I would have never have believed in a hundred years. His lips pressed against mine. And then he began kissing every inch of my face.

"Sherlock!" I protested. "People might see!" I found myself struggling against his grasp.

"I don't care John! And neither should you."

"What happened to 'married to the job', 'emotional distant', 'not having a heart'?" I asked still trying to get away.

"You happened, John," he whispered.

And then without warning my knee buckled and down I went.

"John!" Sherlock screamed as his hands made to grab my arms. Lestrade and Donavan came running.

"What's going on here?" She asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"John's hurt! Call an ambulance!" I wanted to tell him I was alright but I couldn't find my voice. My world was going dark. The last words I hear before blacking out was Sherlock and Donovan arguing.

"Why don't you?" She sneered but Lestrade was dialing the number.

"With what hand?" Sherlock snapped back he was still struggling to keep me on my feet.

I awoke just before the ambulance came and I explained to the nice young men what had happened and they gave me something to calm my shaking body and let me sit in the back while I caught my breath. I looked at my hand again and it still shook. I clenched it and unclenched it, trying futilely to return it to normal.

Sherlock and Lestrade wandered over and from the dark looks on their faces I knew I was in for some intense interrogation.

"What happened?" Lestrade shouted, his brown eyes danced around angrily.

"Yes John, what happened?" Sherlock's voice was quieter but no less intense. I preferred Greg's shouting to be honest. It didn't make me feel guilty the way Sherlock's coldness had.

I looked back and forth between the two of them and sighed. I would have to explain or they'd never let me near a crime scene ever again.

"Just my PTSD rearing its ugly head today. I'm fine, really."

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "That's not what I asked."

I looked up at Sherlock but got no sympathy there. "Today started off okay, but the memories hit me like a ton of bricks when I went to get a shower. And then I was arguing with Sherlock like I normally do and bam suddenly my world went black, I couldn't speak, and my knee gave out. Well, actually take that and reverse it. Knee gave out, couldn't speak, blacked out." I knew I was babbling but I didn't care. Just anything to avoid those piercing blue eyes.

"So nothing out of the ordinary happened?" Lestrade asked. Again I looked up at Sherlock but I carefully avoided those eyes. He seemed to dare me to tell the truth. But I couldn't. Not yet.

"Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary." Sherlock snorted disdainfully and stomped off, clearly upset. Lestrade followed his retreating back a moment with his eyes before turning back to me.

"He's just worried about you. We all are." I nodded but I knew it was something else. I had hurt him. And judging from the wounded slump to his shoulders, pretty bad too. I sighed. I had been doing that a lot that day. I tried to stand but my knee buckled under me again. The EMT's ran over to me and helped me stand. They gave me a crutch to use and I limped off after Sherlock.

Sherlock eyed my crutch as he hailed a cab. And this time on the drive home it was that Sherlock turned his face to the window. I clutched the crutch tightly to my chest and fought back tears.

Sherlock had kissed me and my body spazzed out on me. I had never felt so ashamed in my life. Why? Why was this happening to me? This morning felt so good, dawned so bright and now I about to cry in the back seat of cab heading home. It wasn't even noon yet.

He swept out of the car and through the door leaving me to struggle with the crutch while I paid the cabbie. "Not much, your boyfriend is he?" the cabbie mocked before driving off.

Is that what Sherlock was now? My boyfriend? We'd kissed. Well, technically he had merely kissed me. I had been the one to make the first move and then I pushed him away. I rubbed my eyes on my sleeve and turned to hobble to the door.

I limped up the stairs and sat down in my chair. Sherlock picked up his violin and began to play. I didn't know the tune but it seemed to me sad and lonely and it broke my heart. The tears I held back in the cab threatened to overflow.

"Sherlock…" I muttered. He ignored me and continued playing. I stood up and stumbling made my way over to him, forgetting the crutch. Leaning heavily on my right leg I stood up as straight as I could and grabbed his face and pulled it to mine. The awkward movement he made trying to protect his violin would have made me laugh had I not been so intent on kissing him.

When I finally pulled away, I pressed my forehead to his. "I'm sorry… for everything. For lying to Greg. For pushing you away in the alley. For not enjoying that first kiss. It was so perfect and I ruined it. I'm sorry my mind couldn't handle _you_ looking at my scar. I can't handle anyone looking at it." I turned my head in shame.

His voice was breathless and husky. "Not even Sarah…?"

I shook my head. "None of my girlfriends have seen it. We never got that far to be honest." I looked up into his eyes. Those beautiful pale blue eyes. He gently set down his violin and bow never taking his eyes off me. He lifted up my shirt and let him pull it over my head. My bottom lip trembled as his fingers brushed the scar. His eyes transfixed me.

"Why don't you like people to see it?" I looked away in shame but his other hand grabbed my chin and pulled me back to his eyes.

"It usually only produces one emotion in people. One I don't need." Sherlock looked confused. _Right. _I thought. _He doesn't do emotions very well._

"Pity." The understanding lit up those eyes.

"You want to know what I see when I see this scar?" I nodded or as the best I could with his hand gripping my chin.

"I see the bravery of a man who risked his life for Queen and country. A man who needs excitement, the thrill of the chase. A man who despite everything I threw at you stayed." His lips pressed against mine and I was starting to think that I had never truly been kissed before.

The feeling was electrifying and it sent tingles down my spine. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. He moved a bit away from me and I almost let out a whimper. But he was just unbuttoning his shirt. _Wait. What?_ my mind thought but my heart was the wiser of the two and it told my mind to shut up. I helped remove the shirt by slowly sliding my hands down his arms. He moaned against my lips. Again I pulled him close, reveling in the feeling of his cold skin against my warm body. And as luck would have my leg would chose that moment to give out. Again.

"DAMN MY LEG!" I hollered. Sherlock gripped my elbows. He helped me over to the couch.

"I sorry Sherlock. I want this. I do. But my body has other ideas." Sherlock smiled and then said, "You talk too much." And he began kissing me again. I had to agree with him. Talking was using up time that could be better applied to kissing. His tongue pressed against my lips and gasped to let him in. As his tongue explored my mouth I could feel me get hard.

I had never been with a man and I was almost sure Sherlock hadn't been with anyone at all. I didn't know what to do anymore than he did. His hand unbuckled my belt and I moaned. Next to go was the button and then the zipper. My pants were tightly filled with my expanse and I blushed.

"Sherlock…" I muttered, my breath had gone short with desire. "We… uh… don't…" but I was cut off by his hands grasping the sides of my pants and sliding them off with my jeans. I lay naked underneath him, breathing heavily.

"I want you, John." I kissed his lips and then I looked down. Somehow during the kissing he had managed to divest himself of trousers and pants and his naked body loomed above mine. He was just as aroused as I was.

The next couple hours were spent in bliss. There was some fumbling and mistakes but it was good. Our arms wrapped around each other as we each made the other feel the passion that burned within in us. Panting, we both came and collapsed.

"John?" he murmured into my chest.

"Hmmm…?" I couldn't bother with anything longer than that.

"Do you love me?" I looked down at his curly head, raising and falling with my chest.

I wanted to say 'Of course I do.' But I had the feeling he wanted me to actually say the words.

"Yes, Sherlock. I love you with every fiber of being." He nodded but didn't reply. I wanted to ask him if he felt the same way about me. But I wasn't stupid. I doubted Sherlock even knew what it was he was feeling let alone know how to put them into words.

"I love you, too, John." The words surprised me. But they spread a warm happiness throughout my body.

"Thank you." This caused Sherlock lurch up.

"Why's that?" Confusion colored his tone.

"Because if you hadn't been who you are, today you would not be lying here in my arms after such a delightful experience." He looked into my eyes searching for something, he must have found it because he settled back on my chest.

"I was just trying to comfort you," he muttered regretfully. "I didn't do a very good job."

I struggled to sit up and after a minute or so he let me. I took his hands in mine.

"You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. And you listen good. What happened wasn't your fault. I am ashamed of my scar and it was that shame that brought me to my knees. Literally, to my knees. Usually after these episodes I have nightmares but now I don't care. Not as long as you are in my arms."

I took his face in my hands. "You were doing fine. Feeling your arms around me made me feel safe. Wanted. Loved. Like it was okay to be damaged."

He pull his face away and looked at the floor. "And then I ruined it by kissing you." I grabbed his chin and turned it to face me.

"And if you hadn't we would still be dancing around how I felt about you. I didn't think I was ready to take the next step. To act on my feelings for you. If I ever would. You knowing I liked you that way didn't change the fact that I didn't know if you felt the same."

He looked at me shocked. "But I thought you knew." I looked at him puzzled. "I had been doing what I thought were things that would tell you I loved you." I thought back on the past couple days and realized what he meant. I thought of the concern instead of irritation this morning. I thought of the experiments that were cleaned up by the time I got home. I thought of the violin playing that lulled me to sleep instead of forcing me from it. I thought of the heated looks, the fleeting touches. I blushed in embarrassment.

I kissed his lips. "Forgive me for being so dense?" he nodded shyly. "It's going to take me some time to get over this feeling of resentment and embarrassment about my shoulder. But will you try and be patient with me? I know it's hard for you. But will you try?" Again he nodded.

"Good." I grabbed his hand and led him to his bedroom. I opened the door and bared him down on the soft expanse of the bed. "Now you are going to help me with those nightmares…" I growled.

"How's that?" He asked, playfully.

"By making me _far_ too tired to do anything but sleep." Sherlock rose to the challenge. We spent the next few hours were spent alternating between cuddling and sex. Finally night came and we lay in each others arms.

"What happened with the case?" I asked him drowsily.

"Hrmm?" he muttered almost asleep.

"The case. The one you woke me up for this morning?" He looked down at me and smiled.

"Boring. Accidental drowning." I chuckled sleepily into his chest. I was smiling as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to rain drizzling outside my window. Except something wasn't right I was facing east and that should have been my door. And then I felt something warm against my back. My whole back. I turned around carefully and saw Sherlock sound asleep. His hair had fallen in his face like it had that night he'd come home drunk. What was it? A week ago? This time however I felt no guilt in moving that wayward strand.

I gently brushed it way and kissed my lover's lips softly and then I got up quietly and went to go make tea.

It was almost done when Sherlock burst out of his room clad only his best dressing gown. It was my favorite one. The one that matched his eyes. He looked around and then when saw me standing in the kitchen making tea, he visibly relaxed. He strolled over and kissed me hard on the lips.

"Sherlock… what?" It wasn't that I minded the kiss but the motives behind it worried me a bit.

"I thought you left me…" his voice was raw with emotion.

"Left you? Why on earth…"

"It's what people do, isn't it? Leave after sex?" His eyes were worried. It took me a moment to understand what he was taking about.

"You mean a one night stand?" Sherlock nodded and I kissed him back. "Sherlock, in no way are you or will you ever _be_ a one night stand to me." I don't think he understood as the confusion was still there.

"It's what bad people do when they don't want a relationship. Clearly, that's not me. I love you and I wouldn't be able to live my life without you."

"John…" I placed my finger on his lips.

"Don't say anything. You talk too much…" I kissed him and the tea kettle whistled.

"Sounds like even the tea kettle thinks we're hot…" I told him laughing.

We got our tea and settled on the sofa for some snuggling and the morning news paper. Sherlock was still as fired up as ever about cases and his mind like a racing engine but there would be times after a case where he would cuddle with me on the couch and sleep.

A couple weeks later I received a text message from my sister.

_Let's have lunch -HW_

I rolled my eyes. At least she didn't ask me out for drinks.

_Fine. When. Where. -JW_

_Might as well do Speedy's. Tomorrow 11am. -HW_

I scowled. I didn't want to have lunch so near home. So near Sherlock, he might come and say something that would send her drinking again. But if they went anywhere else he would follow and it would be worse. Sighing he sent back:

_Fine. -JW_

He went into into the kitchen to find Sherlock. It was better if he was told. He looked up from his experiment.

"Judging from you sour expression and the phone in your hand that was Harry. What does she want this time?" I relaxed. It was one the few times I appreciated Sherlock deducting my business. It saved me from telling.

"Lunch."

"Ah." He set down the eye dropper and came around to me. "Next door, I'd assume." I nodded. "And you want me to stay out of it…" I looked down in shame.

"John, it's fine anyway my brother wants a little chat for tea as well." I looked up. Uh-oh. It seemed the siblings were on to us. And if they knew who else did?

We spent the night in each others arms almost if we were afraid it was our last day on earth. That morning we got dressed and kissed our goodbyes before opening the door. Sherlock hailed a taxi and I walked the few steps to the cafe and ordered a sandwich and a small coffee while I waited for Harry.

She arrived shortly after I did. She ordered a large coffee and a small salad.

"So what's this about?" I asked her point blank.

"We've got things to talk about."

"What things?" I knew where this was going but I was going to be deliberately obtuse.

"You've been _seen_!" And then she proceed to tell me about these friends of hers that had gone to a nice Italian restaurant. "And then there was you."

"So…?"

"Having dinner with a man."

"I go out to dinner with Sherlock all the time. So?"

"Kissing, John. She said he was gorgeous. Like a movie star. I've asked this before, have you gone bender?" I blushed.

I stammered a few incoherent sentences before I muttered, "He's very beautiful."

"No!" She exclaimed delightedly.

"Now stop that," I told her, embarrassed.

"Really? You? Since when?" She was giggling and clapping her hands.

I shook my head. "It's weird. It's just different. It's not… men… it's just him." I take a deep breath. "It's only him. And I don't even know what it _is._ So I'm not broadcasting." I looked down at my hands.

"It's Sherlock, isn't it?" She asked leaning closer to me to whisper in hushed tones. I nodded. She started squealing some more.

"Oh my god! When did this come about?" I told her about the last couple weeks, leaving out the sex of course.

"John, this is fantastic!"

And then we heard a voice above us, "What fantastic?" We look up to see Lestrade standing there looking down at us.

"Johnny here was just telling me about the latest case he and Sherlock were on," Harry said brightly and I mouthed 'thank you' to her. She had finally done something decent in her life.

"Ah yes. Hey John? Have you seen that annoying prick we call your flatmate?" I bit my lip and felt a sharp pain under the table.

"OW!" Lestrade looked over at me confused.

"Your leg hurting you again?" I smiled up at him wanly.

"It acts up from time to time." I glared at Harry but she just smiled at me sweetly. I turned to Lestrade. "But anyway, Sherlock was hauled off to a meeting with Mycroft and knowing the other Holmes he probably has one of those device thingies that block mobile signals."

"Oh right. Then he'll get my messages when he gets done?" I nodded and he wandered off.

"What did you kick me for?" I growled at her.

"Because you looked like you were going to hit him for calling Sherlock a prick," she told me.

"I wasn't. I know Sherlock is a prick. He just happens to be _my_ prick." That sent her into a fit of giggles.

"Oh you know what I mean." I was feeling grumpy.

"Oh come on! I have to tease you a little." I looked up to see Sherlock light out of taxi and a small smile spread across my lips. She looked over her shoulder but by then he was already gone.

"You're thinking about him again aren't you?" I just smiled. I looked at my watch, it was almost one.

"I really should go," I told her. She nodded and then grabbed the check. "This one's on me." It was my turn to nod.

"Bye, Harry." I walked the short distance to my flat and closed and locked the door behind me.

Sherlock looked at me with that expression in his eyes that held disdain. I pulled off my coat and pulled Sherlock's coat off too.

"John we have a case!" I crushed my lips into his.

"I know," I told him when he pushed me off. "I saw Lestrade at the cafe. But it can wait an hour." He stopped and thought about it.

"An hour you say?" I nodded and he dragged me into his bedroom. We spent the next hour showing the other how much we missed them. When we finally got dressed Sherlock backed me up against the door.

"Does Lestrade know about us?" His voice was low and husky.

"Not yet. Harry made up some story when he asked what we'd been talking about."

"So Harry knows and she's not telling?" I nodded. "Fantastic!" I smiled at my love. Oh god I love how good those words sounded in my head. I would have to try them out on my tongue later but right now we had a case.

We heralded a cab and finally made it to the crime scene.

"What the hell have you two been up to?" Lestrade growled. "You said you would be here an hour ago."

I could see the wheels turn in Sherlock's head as he was making up a lie. But I grabbed Sherlock's face and as pulled it to mine I said "Oh something like this!" And I planted one on him in front of everyone. Lestrade, Donavan, Anderson. The whole lot of them. At first Sherlock was surprised and then he wrapped his arms around me and returned the kiss.

This was us coming out as couple and I wanted to make up for all the hurt I caused with that first kiss.

"My love," I said so everyone one could hear me.

"I thought you didn't want anyone to know about us," he breathed.

"I don't care. I figured if Harry knew, Mycroft knew and if Mycroft knew Greg would find out eventually. And I just decided to skip all the gossip and rumors and go straight for 'us'." Sherlock smiled down out me. I heard a cough and I looked up.

"This is all well and good but this _is_ a crime scene." Lestrade was smiling though, which was more than what could be said about Donavan and Anderson. They looked as they had been hit with a lorry. Sherlock noted their reaction and said "I love you."

He gave me quick peck on the cheek and then took my hand and led me over to the crime scene.

Donavan hissed "Freak!" at both of us but we just laughed.

"At least we weren't having an affair." I sniped back. Their combined shocked expressions were priceless.

So there we were standing over a dead body, holding hands and giggling like children. And there had never been more right in the world than just then. Sherlock would catch the killers and the victim would be avenged. And that's how it was suppose to be


	3. Dreams

I woke with a start, my heart beating fast. I looked around the room and found it empty. I laid back down, hand over my heart trying to slow it down. I took deep breaths as I felt my heart race. That was it! I decided. No more watching Touchwood marathons with John till four in the morning.

The past two nights had been dreadful. _I'm married to work, I'm married to my work. _ I intoned over and over again. Last night I had dreamed about John coming out that he had feelings for me after I had gotten drunk. _Me? Drunk? _I would never touch the stuff it dulled the senses way too much. Well there was that one time… I rationalized.

This last dream could almost count as a nightmare. Not only had it been a continuation of the night before but it featured him and John having sex of all things. Not just once either. The dream had _three _separate incidents. But what cinched it as obscene was that John wanted _everyone_ to know they were a couple. That wasn't like John at all. How many times had the poor man declared, "I'm not gay!" or "We are NOT a couple!"? It just didn't make sense. Which meant of course that the person that really had these feelings were _me_? Me? Married to my work, me? How was this possible?

I rubbed my temples as I fought to hold back the headache that threatened to overwhelm me. It must have been the show affecting my mind. All that kissing and making out between Jack and Ianto must have fried some of the wires in my brain.

Jack was a common enough nickname for John and the other had an unusual name. In my mind I must have associated the two to us. Of course the roles were switched. John had Ianto's role and I had Jack's. Despite the blaring fact that I was NOT in anyway shape or form a bisexual. Or whatever the hell it was they called him on the show.

Except…. Perhaps I was…. I was attracted Irene Adler and now I had feelings for John. Wasn't that what the definition of bisexual was? Someone attracted to both sexes? But perhaps I just had feelings for these two. Before these two people came into my life, I would have said that I was asexual but they awakened in me ancient feelings. Feelings I swore to never have again.

I closed my eyes and must have drifted back off to sleep because when I opened my eyes again the sun was shining through the window and I realized very quickly that looming over me was a very worried roommate.

"Sherlock…" he started, concern coloring his tone. "You were having a nightmare again. This is the third you've had in two days." He looked at me biting his lip and I snapped at him.

"Out with it John!" He sighed and pushed up my sleeve. I pulled it away before he got to my elbow.

"Sherlock…" he warned. I gripped my arm and turned away.

"You have! I knew it!" He pulled my arm and pushed up my sleeve, faster than I would have thought possible. There for all the world to see were fresh track marks.

"You told me you had stopped!" I shook my head.

"I need something to keep my mind from running into the ground." That was when he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine….

I woke up panting. I sat up and looked around and this time lying next to me on the couch was John. He stirred briefly when I sat up but nothing could jostle him from his position on my lap. I laid back down and held him close.

"Sherlock…?" came the blurry question. I had woken him.

"I just had a nightmare, John," I murmured into his ear. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep." John nodded against my chest and nestled closer as he drifted back off to sleep. It hadn't been a dream. He and I were together. The nightmare had been that it had never happened, that the last two beautiful weeks hadn't happened. I gripped him tightly. I never wanted to let him go.

He must have sensed my worry even in his sleep as his arms pulled me closer. I placed my hand on his head and sighed. I knew then that more than anything in world I would die protecting this man.

The next morning, I pulled myself gently from John's grasp and went to all my hiding places. It took me some time but I found all my drugs and cigarettes. I threw them into the fire and they exploded. I threw my arms up to cover my face and I was very glad I had remembered to close the fire grate. When I put my arm down I could see bits of glass sticking to it.

The noise and sudden flame however had the unfortunate side effect of waking John. He mumbled obscenities as he stumbled to where I stood.

"What WAS that?!" he muttered burying his face into my chest.

"Just me getting rid of my past." He looked down at my arm and then back up to my face.

"Ah." He smiled at me impishly. "This calls for a celebration," he said as he dragged me off to the bedroom. I really didn't want to have sex just then but he surprised me. Instead of leading me to the bed he dropped my hand and went for my closet. After some intense searching he found what he was looking for. He picked out a nice blue dress shirt and my favorite suit and handed them to me.

"You and I are going out and having the best time today. You go get a shower and I'll plan everything." I smiled. This is why I loved John. He always surprised me. Like that first day in the cab. I expected him to get angry. I expected him to tell me to piss off. Instead he called it amazing. Extraordinary even. And I knew, I knew I had to keep him. I told him that I was married to my work, later to see what his reaction would be. He surprised me again.

I went and got into the shower and took extra care with my appearance. Even going as far as to put on the aftershave John liked so much. Everyone liked the purple shirt but the one John had picked out for me was my favorite. It was a dark blue and it reminded me of John's eyes. I pulled it on and I reveled in it's silky feel. It felt like John's skin next to mine. I smiled at the comparison.

When I came out, I saw that John had made an extra effort to dress up nicely for me. He was wearing a suit with the shirt I had gotten him for Christmas. It was a light grey silk shirt that he never really had the occasion to wear. He was also wearing a tie. I walked up to him and kissed his lips as I undid his tie. I threw it to the floor and John protested briefly. I unbuttoned the top button and said, "There. Much better. Now we match."

He nodded and took my hand, he seemed a bit nervous, so I squeezed his hand in reassurance. By the time we had reached the street curb where a cab was waiting for us it was almost noon.

"Where to first?" I asked. But he just smiled at me and let me get into the cab first. I expected John to give him directions but apparently he had already done so over the phone while I had been in the shower.

The cabbie took us to a nice little cafe on the Thames and then waited.

"John…" I inquired. I was concerned about that about the money he was spending on this. He only laughed.

"It's alright Sherlock trust me." I looked back at the cabbie and he tipped his hat to me. I went and stood behind John as he told to maitre d' that we had a reservation for "Hamish". I looked at him in confusion.

"I didn't want special treatment in case the name Holmes or Watson was recognized. I just want a nice quiet day with you." I smiled. I shouldn't have worried and should have known it would have been a purely sentimental reason with John.

We sat and ordered our food. It was reasonably priced, nothing fancy but the food was good and the coffee was even better.

We discussed the latest case we had and whether or not he was going to put it on his blog. He chuckled softly.

"I might but right now I'm writing stories about us. About the life we lead when we aren't solving cases."

"Boring," I told him. But he just shook his head. He wasn't going to start argument. Not today.

"You should write one up Sherlock. Start with something easy. It's like a writing a journal or a diary. It wouldn't be that hard."

"Well if you do I can't figure why it would be?" I snarked. And he looked at me and I worried I might have gone to far. "John I-" But before I could finish I saw his eyes crinkle up and the corners of his lips try to stay in a neutral position but it wasn't working. Once I smiled, he couldn't hold it back. He started to really laugh.

"Well that's true ain't it?" he managed to gasp after a good while.

John paid the tab and we got back into the taxi. We chatted in the back seat, giggling like we always do and I caught the driver smiling at us in the rearview mirror.

Next we went to the British Museum and suddenly I knew that John knew me far too well for his own good. That day they were having a exhibit on famous murderers. Hand in hand we strolled among the likes of George Chapman, Jack the Ripper, Mary Ann Cotton and John George Haigh. They had some American ones too but it was mostly about the British serial killers.

Once we passed a tourist with an iPod blaring a BeeGee tune but he vanished into the crowd before I could get a good look at him. It would be just his thing though… I trailed off my thought. Nah! I decided. I wanted to focus on the hand in mine and the delightful exhibit. Just as we exited out my stomach had the audacity to growl.

He laughed. "I'm hungry too, Sherlock." Of all the sounds in the world that one was my favorite. I never ever got tired of hearing him laugh.

He looked at his watch and said, "We've actually got a bit of time before dinner why don't we go for a stroll in Hyde Park?" I nodded eagerly. He walked over to the cab and slipped him some more money to take us to Hyde Park.

I looked up at the stony walls of Buckingham Palace and said, "Did you know I've declined knighthood twice?" I told him looking at him sidelong. His bright blue eyes lit up with interest.

"I didn't. Twice!" He exclaimed. "I'll be damned. That's incredible Sherlock." I squeezed his hand.

"Only when you say it." I told him and kissed the top of his head.

"Sir Sherlock Holmes…" he seemed to be tasting the words. "Sir Sherlock Holmes…" I laughed.

"I'll tell you what, I'll except the next one just for you." He smiled up at me and my heart fluttered.

We strolled along and then strolled back to the awaiting taxi. The cabbie sped us through the streets of London and I sighed happily.

"I think you'll like this place, Sherlock. It opened up recently near us." He told me as laid his head on my shoulder.

"I don't doubt it. Today has been perfect so far." He looked up at me in surprise and a pure happy smile spread across his lips. It was so sweet that I couldn't help but lean forward and kiss them lightly.

When we got dropped off John paid the cabbie and he drove off. I looked at him strangely.

"Well I figure after dinner we could walk home and enjoy the cool evening…" he said blushing. I kissed his lips again.

"It's perfect, John." He flushed with pleasure. We walked up to the restaurant and I saw was a quiet little Indian diner, where they were clearly newly immigrated and the food was divine. And there was nothing nasty to deduce about the place either. Our waitress however, clearly thought John was quite the thing until I leaned over and kissed him as she was on her way over to refill our drinks.

After she filled our drinks and left in a huff he turned to me, "So she was hitting on me then?" I nodded. "I didn't even notice. How could I when I have you?" He leaned over and kissed me too.

"Oh, John." I whispered contently and he blushed.

I laughed. I don't remember ever laughing so much before I met John. There was something about him that just made laughing so easy. I use to be so solemn before he came into my life and now it's seems the world had revolved to day from the night I thought was destined to be my place in the world.

Once we finished our meal he paid the tab. It was rare delight for me, having John take care of everything. I had never before relinquished that much control to anyone before but clearly John knew what he was doing and I let him take the lead.

I placed my arm around his waist and he placed his arm around mine and we walked happily to our home on Baker St. I don't even remember what we talked about. Or if we talked about anything really.

We wrapped up our terrific date with chocolate cake he had had Mrs. Hudson whipped up while we were out and a fine wine, our arms wrapped around each other as we cuddled on the couch. I looked down at the love of my life.

Who would have thought that this could be me? I swore I was going to die alone. I swore that I wouldn't let anyone get close to me. But slowly but surely he wormed his way under my barriers. Taking them down brick by brick until I was laid bare in front of him. And despite it all, he still loved me.

"I've been thinking, John… about what you said earlier…"

"Hmmm…"

"About writing a story myself?" I could feel him nod. "Would you mind terribly if I wrote about today?" He pulled himself from me a bit to look me in the eye.

"Sherlock! That's fantastic idea!" He kissed me and then cuddled back into my arms. "I can't wait to read it."

_I only hope I can do it justice, do _you_ justice John. My love_


	4. Nightmares

I got off that train and back to the village I had called home, that crazy day in May and made my way back to the cottage where I had lived and looked around. I had always thought that it was a dingy place that held no light but even in the fading light of day I saw that it wasn't that way at all. It was a good place but it wasn't _home_. My outlook had changed the world was brighter than it had been before.

In a way I was sad it took me leaving it to see it's charms. I had only picked it because it was the complete opposite of London and the life I'd left behind. And now that I was going back to that world, I could see the small town charms. Maybe some day when life had slowed me and Sherlock down where we no longer needed the thrill of the case and the chase, we could settle down out here.

I stuck my hands in my pockets and pulled out my keys. I looked at them and released that still on the chain was my key to 221B Baker St. I frowned at it slightly. I didn't remember it being on there before but realized that it always had been there. I hadn't really given up hope that Sherlock would come back to me. I smiled and let myself in.

I looked around my little house and realized that while I had contributed to the decoration at Baker St. there was nothing here that said who I was. There were no medals displayed, or pictures of my army buddies, there were no tokens of my life with Sherlock. There wasn't even a picture of my family. Well of course there wouldn't be one of Harry, as we didn't get along but there was nothing about my life here. It was like the hotel room the army had been putting me up in before I met Sherlock, barren.

I had all that stuff but it was still in boxes. Like some part of me believed I wouldn't be here long. That some part of me still had hope. I smiled again. I was getting use to that part of my face again. I don't think I smiled a true smile in all the time I'd been here. I went to bed feeling better than I had in years.

The morning dawned dark and dismal but it couldn't wipe the smile from my face. I had so much to do and I just didn't know where to start. So I opened the laptop and checked my emails and among the spam and junk were two emails one from each of the Holmes boys. My smile grew wider. The first one was from Mycroft.

Dr. Watson,

Here is a list of places near Baker St that could suit housing your practice.

Mycroft Holmes

And attached was a list of about five places, complete with links to the realty sites and phone numbers to the direct lines of the agents. I had to say, whatever I thought about Mycroft and what he'd done to Sherlock and I, he was efficient. After going through the list and making a few calls, I went back to my email to read Sherlock's.

John,

I hate to bother you with such trivial things when you are so busy, but I can't find my skull and some of my equipment is missing. Mrs. Hudson has been of no help and I need them. Would you know where they are?

I miss you.

-SH

I laughed and picked up my phone to call him.

"Hello?" I silently cursed myself. I had forgotten that I had changed my number to avoid getting harassed by fans and haters alike.

"Sherlock?" I asked, even though I knew it was him.

"Ah! John! Calling about my email." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I said smiling into the phone. "Your skull is on the top shelf of your closet in your bedroom. And I believe that's where the miss equipment is as well but I'm not sure on that."

"Hold on…" I could hear Sherlock move through the flat and it made me home sick as I waited. "Who the hell put them there?" came the angry cry on the other end.

"I believe it was Greg…" I could hear mild cussing on the other end. "Is that all Sherlock?" I asked.

"Yes. Thank you, John."

"I miss you too Sherlock, I'll be home soon." I could hear a small murmur of agreement before he hung up.

I wish we had talked more. But it was my fault we hadn't. I briefly wondered if the equipment was for a case. But I had to push those type of thoughts from my mind otherwise I would be melancholy again. I just just didn't have time for that. I had things to do.

I made my way to my surgery whistling a happy tune. I wished the people I saw along the way a good morning. I probably shocked them but I just didn't care. All was right in the world again. I walked in to my surgery and my nurse and secretary was already there.

"Good morning Ellen," I said as I picked up my mail. She looked stunned. "Who do we have to see today?" I asked.

"Um… uh… let me see…" I smiled. Usually she had it memorized but I had thrown her off her game. For the first time, the unflappable Ellen Edgeworth had to look up who had appointments today.

"Uh… an emergency call with Tommy Barrett and then later at 2 pm Mrs. Gregson," she said.

"All right. let me know once Tommy and his mother get here, I'll be in my office." I smiled at her and walked briskly into my office whistling that same happy tune.

I sat down and called the one other Doctor in town. "Dr. Coulson? Dr. Watson speaking."

"Oh, hello John. I almost didn't recognize your voice. You sound different. Better. What did you do, meet a girl? Or whatever it is that floats your boat?" I laughed.

"No. No, nothing like that. I just had a pretty good day, yesterday."

"Mrs. Kelson was telling me that she saw you walking through town this morning without your cane. _And_ you were whistling a happy tune. She suggested checking your cottage for pods." I laughed again. "I thought you had a family emergency yesterday, emergencies don't tend for good days make." He was curious.

"Yes well," I hedged. "It turned out for the best."

"I see." I wasn't sure if he believed me. "Well, I'm pretty sure you didn't ring me up just be social."

"Ah. Um, no. The emergency is forcing me back to London." There was silence on the other end and it seemed to stretch ad infinitum. But it was most likely a couple of seconds.

"Hence the better mood," came the emotionless reply.

"Oh, hey…" I sought to defend myself. It wasn't like that. Well, it wasn't _exactly _like that.

"No, John," Dr. Coulson's voice on the other end was quiet. "We've always known that London is where you belonged. We all wondered how long we could keep you here."

"Oh." I was speechless. Even they thought I was here on borrowed time.

"So, why don't we have lunch today and begin transferring over your patients to me?"

"Thanks, Phil. I appreciate it."

"No problem," and then he hung up. I didn't wait long after I ended the call until Ellen poked her head to tell me Tommy was here.

"Thank you." I walked to the other door in my office and opened it up to my surgery. Mrs. Barrett sat with Tommy who was clutching his arm. _She looks pretty today_, I thought as strolled up to my patient. I pulled the stool over to where Tommy sat and gently pulled on his arm to take a look at it.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh…" I cooed as tommy winced. "Let's get this x-rayed." I told him as I handed him off to Ellen. "If you're good maybe she can find you a treat." I flashed a smile up at Ellen and she nodded. I turned back the mother.

"So what was he doing in the oak tree by the school?" I asked.

"How did you know he fell from the oak tree?" she looked more stunned then when I came in with a smile.

"Well, it's not hard. I remember being a boy, and what boy could resist climbing that tree." I laughed. "But in all seriousness, judging from the time of day, it being just before school. Plus there was the oak leaves in his hair and the rough gravel in his knee."

"I didn't even noticed the scrape on his knee." She sounded horrified that she had missed that.

"Oh, don't worry, you were concentrating on the main thing, the break. And the rest just slipped your notice." I gave her my best warm smile as Ellen brought Tommy back with a sucker and the x-ray. I took the x-ray and put on the light box.

"Let's see what we've got here, shall we?" i told them as I turned on the light. I pointed to the two lines on the image. "Looks like two clean breaks, kiddo. Looks you get a nice cast there."

I pulled out the colors and had him pick one, then I went to work setting and casting his arm. Once I was done I turned to Mrs. Barrett. "In about six weeks take it to Dr. Coulson and he'll take a look to see if the cast can be taken off or if it needs two more weeks."

She looked at me strangely. " You won't be here then? Going on vacation?"

I simply smiled and said, "Going home."

By the time I got to my lunch appointment, I was the talk of the town. People were saying that I had changed, that I was happy for the first time since they met me. And that I was going home.

I walked into the small cafe and looked around. I spotted the good doctor sitting the corner with a notepad and cup of coffee. He was an older man nearing the fifty mark, a bit taller than me, though really that wasn't hard. He didn't look his age but he had this sense of gravitas, this stoic nature that made him a good man and better doctor. He would be one the people I would miss when leaving.

"Well, Johnny. The whole town wants to throw you a going away party." I moved to sit down and placed my patient files next to me on the table.

"Just John please. The name Johnny has bad memories for me."

"Ah. I didn't know. I apologize." I nodded. "Well anyway... what do you say to the party?"

"Does Friday work for everyone?" I said laughing. He clapped his hand on my shoulder.

"Done."

The party was a huge success. I drank, I laughed, I had girls throw themselves at me. And I just laughed off their attempts. I was leaving for one thing and for another… well… there was Sherlock.

I woke up to a hang over and movers taking my things. Standing in the middle of them all was Mycroft.

"Good morning Dr. Watson." he intoned. I rubbed my eyes and forehead. He handed me a cup of coffee and muttered my thanks.

"Everything will be back at Baker St. before you arrive on the train. You'll have unpack yourself but everything else will be taken care of."

"Thanks. For everything really. Not that it even comes close to making up for the backstabbing thing. But thanks." He smiled wanly.

"I do realize that, you know." His face was calm but his voice held this little note of tension. I had struck a nerve.

I got dressed and watched as everything I owned got loaded into the moving lorry and the looks people were giving Mycroft. Once the last thing was loaded up and the lorry driver pulled away, Mycroft handed me my train ticket.

"You should be able to be back home by five this evening." I nodded my thanks as a fancy car pulled up and he got in it and drove off too. That's when people finally had the courage to ask who that was. I just laughed. I grabbed my laptop bag my phone and my keys and walked toward the train station. When I got there Dr. Coulson was waiting for me.

"Hello, Phil. Here to see me off?" He smiled at me.

"You will be missed you know." He said.

"I know but this was never how I wanted to live my life. I love London. It's sights, it's sounds, it's seedy underbelly. It's people." I thought of Greg, Mrs. Hudson. Of Mike and Bill. And of course of that crazy mad man. Sherlock Holmes. I couldn't wait to be back with them.

I handed Dr. Coulson my number and address. "Call me up if you're ever in town, we'll do drinks." He took my card and smiled.

"Will do. Good luck, John." He shook my hand warmly as the train pulled into the station.

"Good bye Phil. Good luck with your new patients." I got on the train and smiled as it pulled it away I was going home.

Arriving at Baker St. i could hear gun shots. I dash up the stairs and he is shooting at the wall again. i pull the gun away from him and shove it back into the drawer.

"Missed me then?" I asked and he smiled.

"Of course I did, John." We were so close I wondered if we were just going to pick up where we left off. But he moved back and my heart felt a little heavy. It was going to have to take some time. After all, I thought he was dead for two years. Did I still trust him? Did he still trust me?

He started getting cases again and I followed him on a couple of them. It was great to be back. I would spend a couple hours a day at my surgery and then my nights chasing criminals with Sherlock.

That was until I caught a cold from one of patients. My eyes were watery, I had a high fever and was coughing up a storm. Sherlock took one look at me and ordered me back to bed.

"But the case," I croaked.

"I'll be fine, John. Get better so I can drag you around again." I smiled but a coughing fit erupted and he frog marched me back to bed. And that's when the nightmares started back up again.

They were always the same. I was chasing Sherlock through the foggy streets, hearing gun shots ring out. I fall clutching my stomach I look up to see Sherlock come crashing to ground and he dies in my arms as I bleed out our blood mingling and I hear just before I wake up screaming that voice. "Got-cha!"

The first time I know Sherlock isn't home. I can feel the void in the house. I cried myself back to sleep. The second time I wake up screaming, I hear the violin wafting up from downstairs. I clamp my hand over my mouth trying to keep me from screaming again. The sound of the violin changed and lulled me to sleep and the night becomes dreamless in its music. The morning finds my fever broken and my body ravaged from the sickness and the dreams. I stumbled down to the kitchen to find the flat devoid of Sherlock. I made it as far as my chair before I collapse. I heard footsteps running up the stairs and I hope it's Sherlock.

"Dearie?" I heard. It's Mrs. Hudson.

"Sorry Mrs. H." I told her. "I was just trying to get a cup of coffee." I closed my eyes against the pain pounding in my head.

"Got a cold then?" I nod. She is gone and few minutes later I have soup and peppermint tea. She watches as I take in the food and drink and then carts it off. She comes back with a blanket and I drift off to sleep. This time my body is too weary for the nightmares and I slept soundly.

When I awoke, I was back in my room. My eyes were still watery and I blinked several time to clear them. Once I could see, I noticed a note on my night stand.

John,

I found you on your chair. I figured you would get better sleep up here.

-SH

I smiled at the note before drift back to sleep and back to my nightmares. This time they changed. I was fighting off shadow men as the dragged Sherlock off into the night. I keep fighting to try to get Sherlock but the shadow men keep pushing me back. He's my friend! I scream. Or try to but nothing comes out. I see him get ripped to bits and I wake up screaming his name. I was sweating and breathing hard. I didn't want to sleep anymore.

I stand up and only wobble a little. I make my way downstairs but Sherlock isn't home yet. I cough a bit as I make tea for myself but the cough like the fever is on it's way out. The next day I feel well enough to follow Sherlock and he seemed pleased to have me back. They were still on the same case as before and I briefly wondered if Sherlock was worried about me. I pushed the thought from my head.

I thought that the fevered nightmares and torment would be gone with me back on the case but they were still there. Sometimes the two nightmares would merge and it would be like hell.

For the next few night I didn't sleep. I stayed up on my blog, or watching telly. Or reading. Anything to chase the nightmares away. But I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. I fell asleep on the couch reading a book.

It was good having someone to talk to those first few weeks back. When he called in response to my email I was overjoyed. But then he asked if there was anything else I needed. I wanted to tell him, "Yes John, I need you." But he was busy. Busy trying to get home to me. So I hung up. I didn't even really hear what he had said before that. He didn't love me anymore.

When he came home and asked if I missed him, I wanted to kiss him then. But I remembered that phone call and backed away. I regretted doing that when I first learned he had gotten sick from one of his patients. I wanted to hold him in my arms and leave off the damn case. But Lestrade wouldn't stop pestering me about it. So I told Mrs. Hudson to take him.

On the second night of his being ill, I had been playing my violin to help myself think. As all my thoughts were tangled up in John and I thought I heard a sound from upstairs. I paused briefly but upon hearing nothing, I used my music to lull him back to sleep, in case he had awoken.

The following day I came home to find him on his chair with a blanket draped over his shoulders. I lifted him up and was frightened by the weight. John was far lighter than I would I have thought. I told myself that it was just the illness but seeing the lines around his eyes and that the skin fit tightly to his frame, instead of loosely as with sudden weight loss, I knew he hadn't been eating right or sleeping well for quite sometime.

The weight was slowly coming back but the illness had taken whatever he had gained back since his return to Baker St. I laid him on his bed and made sure he well covered before I wrote my note.

Once John was better I was able to burn through the case quickly and solved it. The next few days I was starting to worry about him. I could tell he wasn't sleeping but i didn't know why. I came home from a minor case that had taken me mere minutes to solve and found the reason for John's sleepless nights.

He was on the couch, thrashing in his sleep, calling my name and screaming, "He's my friend." I rushed over to his side.

"John!" I called, starting to panic. "John I'm here!" But nothing I did could wake him. I was genuinely frightened. _Hold him_. Some part of my brain told me. I frowned. I didn't know where the thought had come from. _Hold him._ It said again. _You'll have bruises but it'll be worth it. _Bruises? I thought. And I moved to hold John still and his fist connected with my cheek. _Right, bruises. That's going to swell up nicely. _I thought and the other part of brain just smiled amused.

I held him close until the thrashing stopped and his breathing slowed. I muttered what I hoped was soothing noises as finally he fell into a restful night sleep. Worn out by the sheer will I was using not to cry I fell asleep too.

I woke up to the sunlight in my eyes and a very warm John in my arms.

"Sherlock?" I heard the plaintive cry.

"Hmmm?" I asked. Removing my arms from around his waist and I already missed the feeling. He sat up and looked at me.

"Oh my god Sherlock! What happened to your cheek?" I wanted to scream, you! You did this but the look of fear in his eyes told me that he might already know that.

"Oh I got this on the case." I lied smoothly. "Apparently, he didn't approve of me calling him a swindler, a liar, and a thief."

"Sherlock…" Oh good he believed me. And then I looked into his eyes and realized that maybe he didn't.

"About last night…"

"You were thrashing about John, it was the only way to get you stop." I was getting irritated. You don't love me anymore, I wanted to scream.

"Oh." He looked down crestfallen. Why would he…? Oh! Oh! I had misread his feelings again. He hadn't asked me if there was anything I needed to get off the phone quickly but because he cared. He was looking to kiss me that first day back. His nightmares should have been the first clue about how he felt. But I was so stupid. I grabbed his chin and pulled his face back to up. His eyes snapped back to meet mine.

"Not that I didn't mind having you back in my arms again…" I looked into those dark blue pools of light that were John's eyes. His lip trembled and I leaned forward not quite touching his mouth but close enough he could feel my breath. He leaned forward the rest of the way. After two years, three months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours, and twenty-two minutes, I was finally kissing John again. I wrapped my arms around him and he sighed happily against my mouth.

"John," I looked down into his eyes after that wonderful kiss had ended. He looked back up at me and blushed.

"Why didn't you tell me about the nightmares the first time you had them?" He blushed a deeper shade of red.

"I didn't want you to worry. I just wanted things back to the way they were before. Before I moved in here, I nightmares about the war but the stopped my first night here. Granted I was too exhausted after that experience with the cabbie but they weren't there the next night or the night after that. They came back briefly after the incident at the pool but then they went away again. And then…"

"And then I vanished on you and made you think I had died and they came back full forced didn't they?" He nodded.

"It was good for awhile when I found out you were alive. I could follow you. Make sure you weren't going to leave me again."

"And then you got sick and I was still on a case," he nodded again. "Oh John," I said as I drew him under my chin.

"Why didn't they stop when you got better?" I asked.

"I don't know Sherlock, they've never stayed like this before." He seemed frightened.

I texted Lestrade and Mycroft both. We were not to be disturbed today, I needed the day off. Mycroft's response was knowing and said something about taking care of my doctor. Lestrade's was merely a wink emote. I sighed. It wasn't as though I was planning to have sex or anything. I just needed time alone with John. We were both exhausted and it was time to go back to bed.

I lifted him off the couch and made my way to my bedroom. He giggled and I smiled down at him.

"Oh and you keep going on about my eating and sleeping habits but neglect yourself? Not happening John." He looked at me shocked.

"Yes, sir." He said saluting. I laughed as plopped him on the bed.

"First things first, back to sleep. It is way too early and we both could use more sleep." He nodded.

"And then breakfast. Or lunch or whatever meal it is when we decide to get up, are we clear?"

"Crystal."

He drifted off first and was soon whimpering in his sleep. I put my arms around him and muttered soothing noises and as quickly as the whimpering started it stopped and he drifted off to a dreamless sleep with a happy sigh.

"I love you John." I whispered as I too drifted off to sleep.


	5. Valentine's

I stared at the calendar in disbelief. _Shit, shit, shit!_ Valentine's Day was next week. This would be Sherlock's and my first one together. I wasn't even sure if he wanted to do anything at all. He didn't like holidays in general. Granted Christmas was a special kind of hell for the man but he didn't even like Halloween, one holiday I figured would be right up his alley.

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. Plus there was no way that I could outdo that first real date of ours but should I wait for Sherlock to plan something instead? _Argh!_ The problem with that, however, was what if he genuinely forgot and felt guilty? He'd be sulking around the flat for days. Weeks even.

Well, there was only one thing for it. I'd have to ask the detective if he wanted to do something for the holiday and if he didn't, then I would play the martyr at work and take the last shift for all the doctors who did have plans for that night. It really bothered me, though. I wanted to do something with Sherlock because he was special. When I had girlfriends around this time of year, I hadn't been with them long so I did the basic "out to a nice restaurant." But Sherlock-Sherlock deserved the whole kit and caboodle. The whole nine yards as the Americans say.

I sighed deeply. Just when I had reached the deepest part of my despair, in dashed the love of my life, his blue eyes bright, his coat flailing behind him as he hurtled in. I watched as he took it off and tossed it on to the back of my chair. He huffed as he threw himself in his chair and looked up at me through dark eyelashes.

"Apparently there is a dreadful holiday coming up that everyone we know seems to be participating in, and thus leaving me with nothing to do." Sherlock looked positively revolted.

"You're talking about Valentine's Day?"

"Even my brother has a date!" Sherlock snapped. That shocked me more than the petulant attitude did.

I walked over and straddled him in the chair. I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his. "Are you forgetting something?" I asked after I broke off the kiss. I could feel the tension leave his body.

He looked down, ashamed. "I wasn't sure you'd want to do anything… after all, I'm not a woman."

"If I could shout my love for you from the top of the tallest building in London, I would, you daft git. Here I was worrying that _you_ wouldn't want to do anything." He looked up at me sharply. "You dislike two things, Sherlock. Holidays and sentiment. Valentine's Day is chock full of both."

"Not with you," came the soft reply.

I chuckled and kissed his lips. "Well, then. Let's plan something that will make all our friends jealous that they didn't think of it." A wicked gleam entered his eyes and I swear I could almost hear the whirl of his hard drive starting up.

I put my hand over his heart. "Why don't you come up with a list of ideas, and I'll come up with a list of ideas, and we'll decide between the two lists?"

Sherlock nodded and then he looked up at me expectantly. "Uh, John? I can't make a list while you're on my lap."

I chuckled. "Nope. But we have a week and I have other ideas at the moment." A slow smile spread across his features.

"Oh," his voice dropped dramatically, and it sent shivers down my spine. He pressed his lips to mine and wrapped his arms around me. I sighed happily as I ran my fingers through his hair. Despite looking all hard angles and sharp lines, he was surprisingly soft. Especially his skin. It may look cold and hard like porcelain or alabaster but it was warm and supple.

I rutted forward and he gasped. "Bed," he demanded. I nodded, he lifted me up and carried me, still wrapped around his waist, to the bedroom. As soon as he was through the door, he kicked it closed and proceeded to ravish me in the most delightful ways.

As we lay in bed, sated and content, I thought about what might be romantic for for a couple as strange as we were. We talked about it for hours trying to come up with things we'd both like to do.

We ultimately decided that we would have an all-day romantic interlude. I wished we could do a picnic but winter in London was no place for that sort of thing. It might not snow that often but hell did it like to freeze, especially this year. That meant unless we planned on a vigorous activity (and no, sex didn't count, it required our clothes being off and it certainly too cold for that) we would be frozen to the core after bare minutes. And hypothermia was no joke.

I woke up for work the next morning and smiled down at my love. He slept more these days, ate more too. I kissed his forehead and got up to shower. Dressed and fully ready to go, I stopped to look at Sherlock's sleeping form. He was more peaceful in his sleep, God knows I never get any peace while he's awake. I felt blessed and honored he picked me.

I took the tube as I did most mornings I worked. While Sherlock was bringing in a good chunk of change from his cases, I was saving up my money for something special and I was almost there, too. I got paid the day before Valentine's, and I hoped it would be enough.

I strolled into the little surgery where I worked and was greeted by the receptionist.

"Hey, Dr. John. There's a package for you on your desk," she informed me when I waved hello. Only the girls in reception called me Dr. John, everyone else seemed to get the message that at work I was Dr. Watson, and away from work I was John.

"Thank, Ally," I muttered. I got to my office and sure enough there was a small package on my desk. I hung up my coat and moved to stand over the parcel. There was a small note in a familiar hand, which read, "I didn't think you'd appreciate the usual trappings of the holiday so I got you this instead."

I sat down hard. Sherlock had gotten me a present for Valentine's Day? And had arranged it in such short notice, too. I opened it up and inside was a leather wrap. Curiously I unrolled it and gasped when I saw what it was.

Just then a knock came at the door and I bid them enter. Sarah poked her head in.

"Hey, John-" she began and then saw the look on my face. "Okay, what has he done now?"

I chuckled weakly. "Come see." It was fine for her to see it as she had seen the object it was for. She came in and closed the door tightly behind her, she moved over to the desk and looked down at the now-open leather wrap. Her hand went to her mouth to cover her gasp.

"That looks expensive as hell, John," she muttered as she ran her fingertips over the kit.

"I know the brand; it's not too expensive but it's the best in the industry. The army has been trying to get the manufacturer to sell to the government for years." I looked down at the most beautiful, and clearly the best gun cleaning kit in the country-quite possibly the northern hemisphere-and Sherlock had bought me one.

"Wow, I didn't think Sherlock did sentiment," she said as she finally looked up at me.

"Apparently, he does for me. And Lestrade, and Molly, and Mrs. Hudson and…"

She burst out laughing. "All right, all right. I got the message. He's an oyster that's hard on the outside, soft on the inside and if you're really lucky, a pearl too."

"And oh, I did get the best and brightest pearl I've ever seen," I breathed, unable to take my eyes off the kit. I coughed and looked up at her. "So, you got a date for Valentine's?"

"Actually, I do. Came as a bit of shock really, but I'm excited." Sarah's danced with mischief.

"Anyone I know?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Mycroft." As there was literally only one man in London by that name, one with the surname Holmes, my eyebrows shot up.

"Wow. I always thought that he and his PA had a thing." Anthea or whatever it was she was calling herself this week.

"Apparently, she's been seeing that lovely detective from our first date. Dimmock, I think his name is." Well, that was a juicy bit of gossip that I hadn't heard and I spend more time at the Met than I do almost anywhere else but Baker Street.

"Wait…" I said as office gossip came filtering through. "_She's_ the pretty brunette he's been seen with?" I asked, incredulous.

"That's the one." Sarah's smile had a mischievous turn to it.

"Wow, and with Greg and Molly going out, we pretty much close the circle don't we?" This morning just kept getting stranger and stranger.

"I suppose we do now, with Mycroft and me joining in on the fun," she laughed.

"After Valentine's we should all get together for dinner, the eight of us," I suggested.

"Only if you plan it," she said as she made her way out the door.

"Deal!" I called after her. She waved at me over her shoulder and closed the door behind her.

I smiled and then pulled out my phone.

_Thank you for the lovely gift- JW_

_You're welcome, John. You're worth it- SH_

_I found out who Mycroft's date for Valentine's is- JW _

I knew that would get his attention and sure enough the reply was nearly instantaneous.

_Your Sarah?- SH_

_She hasn't been mine since a madman in Westwood tried to use me to level a swimming pool. But yes, that Sarah- JW_

_Well, she was marginally clever and a higher caliber than your dates that followed- SH_

I chuckled. That was as high a compliment that any woman I dated was ever going to get from Sherlock.

_So you wouldn't mind having her for your sister-in-law then?- JW_

_Well…I wouldn't go that far.- SH_

I laughed and set my phone down. It was time for my first patient of the day, but I suddenly couldn't wait to get home.

The day crawled at an achingly slow pace and when it was time to clock out, I was out the door like a flash. I barely waved goodbye as I ran past, the gun kit gripped tightly in my fist. Once outside I whistled for a taxi. Apparently the taxi gods were with me, as one pulled up almost immediately.

I gave the address for home and settled back to look at the gift in my hand. The leather was soft and supple and reminded me of Sherlock's skin after a shower. I don't know how long I stroked the wrap, but suddenly the taxi screeched to a halt. I got out and paid the cabbie. I ran up to the flat. I barely threw open the door before Sherlock attached his lips to mine.

When we finally broke apart I breathed, "If anyone tells me you're not romantic, I'll punch them in the face. That was the most marvelous gift I've ever seen and I plan on thanking you all night…" He blushed.

"I hoped it would go over well."

"'Over well'? Sherlock, that has got to be one of the best gifts I have ever gotten in my life." He raised an eyebrow at me. "It's in the top five you've given me. The best gift is you." He blushed again.

"You are the only person who not only tolerated my moods and deductions from the beginning, but you called me brilliant, amazing, and fantastic all within hours of meeting me. No had ever called me that. Mycroft was always there first. Seven years my senior and I always feel like I'm playing catch-up. Always smarter, better, more social. Then you came along and suddenly I had someone who didn't feel that way at all. You could have taken his money; spied on me for him but no. John Watson wouldn't stand for that, not at all. You turned him down and came running…"

"And I've been chasing you ever since," I muttered.

"You caught me, John. I'm yours."

I drew him into a hug, "And I am yours, Sherlock."

The next week when I'd show up at work there was always something waiting for me at my desk. Sometimes it would be a simple card saying how much he loved me; others it would be a bottle of my favorite aftershave or an expensive gift like a cardigan. By the third day everyone would huddle around as I opened up the gift. The girls in reception would sigh and even Sarah would look impressed at the latest token of affection.

"If you ever want to give him up, you send him my way," Ally sighed.

"Like hell he'd give up someone like that," the other receptionist, a perky blonde named Abby, told her.

I chuckled. "Oh believe me, not even the hounds of hell could drag me away from him now."

Finally the day before Valentine's arrived and everyone was twittering with excitement, asking me what our plans were for tomorrow. But I refused to tell them. I didn't want them stealing our ideas. Plus some of them were personal and I was not the kind to kiss and tell.

Though Sarah did tell me that Mycroft was doing "the fancy dinner" at the most exclusive restaurant in town. He'd even sent her a dress for the occasion. No doubt from someone famous and dangerously expensive. As if Mycroft would wish to be seen with someone in anything less.

She laughed when I mentioned it. "It's an Alexander McQueen pencil dress; of course it's expensive."

That meant nothing to me, but clearly all the girls in the office were atwitter about it. Later I looked it up and it was over £4,000. For a first date, clearly Mycroft was serious about her. Though I wasn't sure how serious Sarah was.

I got my check and nearly cheered. It was more than enough. I made my way to the shop and happily handed over the money I'd been saving for months. I went home with a full heart and an empty wallet.

Sherlock greeted me at the door as always. No matter what he had been doing during the day, he made sure that he was there to meet me. It made me feel warm inside. I kissed him hello and we settled in for a good night sleep's. Even Sherlock went to bed early. I sighed happily as he wrapped his arms around me and snuggled into my neck. This was my life and I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

I woke up well rested. Something smelled divine but before I could get up to see what it was, Sherlock walked in with a tray of food and tea. I smiled up at him.

"You didn't have to do that, Sherlock," I told him as he set the tray on my lap.

"Yes, but I wanted to," came the slightly petulant reply.

I looked down at the massive pile of food in slight dismay. "I can't eat all this on my own!" I wailed.

"You're not supposed to," he purred in my ear. I shivered happily. He sat in the bed next to me, careful not to jostle the tray, and we fed each other our breakfast.

"Did you make this?" I asked as we neared the end of the pile.

"Yes, John. I did have to survive on my own before I moved into Baker Street." I chuckled and he swatted at me playfully. I looked at the clock; we didn't have much time to get ready to go. He smirked and pointed to my clothes laid out and waiting for us. All I needed to do was shower and dress.

Soon we were on the train headed to Cardiff. We snuggled in our seats and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"This was a lovely idea, getting away from London for the day," I told him. "What made you think of Wales?"

"Cardiff is where they film that silly TV show you like so much; they even have a huge exhibit there for it."

I jolted off his shoulder. "You mean you picked this place because you knew it would be something I'd enjoy?"

He smiled fondly at me. "Of course, John. That's not to say that there aren't things to do here that I won't enjoy as well."

Sure enough, even though we spent quite some time at The Doctor Who Experience, we also spent time wandering the shops and touring the lake. Though unlike some couples, we opted to stick to the shore instead of braving the waters in a "romantic" row boat.

We warmed up at one of the shore side pubs before heading out to Castle Coch to watch the sun set over the ramparts. Just as the sun began its slip behind the horizon, I pulled out the little black box from my pocket and got to one knee.

"Sherlock Holmes, would you marry me?" He stared down at me in shock. He blinked twice before pulling me to my feet for a long kiss. Just as the last sliver of sun sank out of sight, we pulled apart.

"Of course I will, John. Forever." I took the ring out of the box and placed it on his hand. It was a simple white gold band with a braided design and our initials branded on the inside, and it fit perfectly. I beamed up at him. He was mine forever now. I kissed his lips and wrapped my arms around his waist. I was so happy.

He looked down at me. "You need a ring, too. I have to show everyone that as I belong you, you belong to me." He got this bright look on his face and kissed me hard. "I have to make a phone call!"

He stepped to the side but I caught the conversation anyway.

"Mycroft?" He had called his _brother_?

"Don't give me that. I know the reservation isn't until 7."

Here Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Because apparently Sarah and John are still friends and she told him, ergo John told me."

There was silence on his end for a minute or so before he cut in. "Are you going to continue to complain or shall I get to point of the call and let you go?" I really wish I could have heard the other side of the conversation.

"Thank you. I need to use your connections to a certain family to get a ring for John."

"Cardiff."

There was another long pause. I wondered if it was because Mycroft was stunned to silence or because he had gone on a tirade. But apparently Mycroft ultimately agreed to whatever was being asked of him because Sherlock said, "Thank you, Mycroft."

He turned to me and smiled. "So how big a favor did you ask him for anyway?" I asked as I walked up to him.

He took my hand and dashed off, pulling me along, "You'll see, but we have to hurry before the shop closes."

We hopped on the transport the castle provided to and from Cardiff. He fidgeted all the ride back to town refusing to tell me what it was he asked of Mycroft. He grabbed my hand again when we got to town and was off like a shot. It was a good thing it was something I was use to, otherwise I probably would have tripped or stumbled.

He dragged me to a small shop, and we were greeted warmly upon entry.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson! Your brother just called and explained everything to us. We are more than happy to help you."

I looked around. "Wait, is this where Kate and William got their rings?" Sherlock smiled at me and suddenly everything became clear. I was floored. That was one _hell_ of a favor he had just asked of his brother.

Sherlock marched up to the counter and showed the nice man behind it his ring. "Could you make me something like this, but in Welsh gold? Including the initials inside the band?"

The man took the ring and looked it over. He turned to me, "Did you design it?" I nodded mutely. I wasn't sure how he figured it out but I assumed he knew his trade well enough to guess.

"May I ask what the H stands for?" the jeweler asked.

"Hamish." I blushed.

"Scottish, then. Nothing wrong with that. Unlike these English," he winked at Sherlock, who thankfully just smiled back.

"It will take a couple days to recreate your design Dr. Watson." My heart sank. I wanted Sherlock to wear to ring on our way home.

"I'll just go and take pictures of this, and if you could email me your original designs that would be helpful as well." And just like that, the weight lifted off my chest. Sherlock was going to be able to take my ring home with him today. I nodded emphatically. The jeweler came back shortly with Sherlock's ring polished and he handed it to me.

I took the ring and put it back on Sherlock's finger where it belonged. I don't think I've seen him look so happy as he did to have that ring back on his hand. He was positively beaming.

"Did you hear that they passed that gay marriage act?" the jeweler asked as he rummaged around for a business card for me.

"I did," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "I was going to wait until it happened to ask him, but I had been planning on getting the ring a bit before that. I had to save up for it after all."

The jeweler just smiled as he handed me his business card. Sherlock and I ended up wandering around the town some more before we headed back to London. On the train ride over I held his left hand and ran my thumb happily over the ring on that third finger of his long, slender hand.

His ring for me finally arrived. When I wore it for the first time at the office all the girls were aflutter with excitement for me. Sarah nearly fainted when I told her who made the ring. But none of that mattered to me as much as the sentiment behind the ring. If Welsh gold was good enough for the royals, then as Sherlock was concerned, it would be the only thing good enough for me.

I loved that madman of mine.

**A/N: Lots and lots of love to old ping hai, she is full of awesome and win and these stories would probably be nowhere near as good without her. **

**Welsh gold: you can get jewelry with a bit of Welsh gold in it but if you want 10kt or better you kinda need to be royalty. Or very connected. Like Sherlock. And I really don't want to know what favor big brother is going to call on in that one. But knowing Mycroft something deliciously conniving. **

**Train rides to Cardiff: Without them we wouldn't have this show to love and adore. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat came up with the idea to update the Great Detective on their numerous train rides to Cardiff when they were mere writers for Doctor Who. **

**Also more love about Cardiff: other than exterior shots of their flat and when they have to film on location, "Sherlock" is filmed in Cardiff, too. **


End file.
